


empathy has its downsides

by metamookiisle



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Arguing, Brothers, Emotional Repression, Family Dynamics, Family Feels, Hugging, Hurt/Comfort, Minecraft, No Character Death, No Romance, No shipping, Oneshot, Panic Attacks, Phil has wings, Sensory Overload, Swearing, am i projecting onto phil? ahahhahahahahahahaaa, how the fuck does this have like 4k words i just like to make myself cry, i am writing angst about block men no i dont sleep, if u ship irl ppl ur nasty asf, mcyt - Freeform, no beta we die like men, no sleep either bitch, phil do have emotional baggage doe, phil is sadge, sleepy bois inc - Freeform, techno b like "im gonna go farm potatoes for months" and thats what he do, tommy cry., tommy is more mature than u think, wilbur gets angey
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-16
Updated: 2020-10-16
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:08:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27039235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/metamookiisle/pseuds/metamookiisle
Summary: Being the family therapist takes its toll. Empathy has its downsides, and do those downsides affect those who feel it.oh yeah oh woo oh yeah ive been working on this for a while now and its WAYYY longer than most of my other fics,,, like,, took up 17 google docs pages...,,,.,.,.,... anyways here take me projecting onto the oldest sibling of the group and making myself cry. in summary, it's like,, phil is always helping others but nobody helps him :smile:
Relationships: Dave | Technoblade & Phil Watson, Dave | Technoblade & TommyInnit, Dave | Technoblade & Wilbur Soot, Dave | Technoblade & Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit & Phil Watson, No Romantic Relationship(s), TommyInnit & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Wilbur Soot & Phil Watson, Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit, platonic - Relationship
Comments: 38
Kudos: 890





	empathy has its downsides

**Author's Note:**

> [cries] [barks] [slams fist on table] [wails]

Phil was the oldest brother.

He was more of a father figure to his three younger siblings, but it was alright. He was known to be the most compassionate and empathetic towards people. The most optimistic, the most selfless. He’d always put others before himself even when he felt intense levels of selfishness to just care for himself.

Being the family therapist takes its toll. Empathy has its downsides, and do those downsides affect those who feel it.

It was a rather stagnant night in the house. Techno was home, which was a very rare occasion as of recent, and Wilbur and Tommy weren’t at each other’s necks.

The latter two had cooked supper that night, surprisingly not burning anything (perhaps as a celebration for the fact that Techno was there), and it was quiet. Almost a bit too quiet.

There was tension in the air. It was undeniable. Techno had started to be away from home for longer periods of time, farming potatoes and dueling and whatnot. Wilbur and Tommy were fighting more often over smaller things than usual. Small squabbles had turned into slamming-the-door arguments. Phil was trying to keep everyone sane but himself. He was like a frayed rope; a cut cable laid out in a pool of water, waiting for someone to flip the switch on and charge that water with a current, possibly even causing someone to be electrocuted.

The present was hard to bear. The silence was palpable—something was definitely off tonight. The food was fine, but the energy in the air was not.

Tommy, the rash thinker, was the catalyst.

“You’re never home, Techno. Do you hate us now or something? What’s the problem, eh?”

It was supposed to be a _joking_ question, perhaps something light-hearted to break the silence. The words twisted around and took on a passive-aggressive tone. Phil felt his heart twist. This was not going to be good.

Techno slowly looked up from his plate, tired eyes looking irritated, a single floppy ear twitching. “What?”

Wilbur set his fork and knife down with a clink and grabbed fistfuls of his pants, looking down so nobody could see his expression. “For once, Tommy’s right. You’re not around here anymore. Do you have better things to do than _live_ with your own family?”

The tallest pushed his chair away from the table and continued to ramble. His voice slowly raised in pitch, becoming higher. “I mean, is there something wrong? Do you not love us anymore? We’re your _brothers,_ Techno, did something _change_ somehow? Is something different, have you found a different crowd? Why—“ Wilbur gripped his hair now, visibly distraught for someone so calm fifteen seconds ago. “Why would you _leave us?_ ”

Techno interjected, also setting down his utensils neatly. Phil began to feel an odd sensation in his chest, one he was used to by now with all the previous arguing, and pushed his plate away, no longer hungry. Again, not good.

“I’m not leavin’ you, when did I ever say that? You’re actin’ weird.”

Tommy jumped in again. “ _We’re_ acting _weird?_ You’re the one abandoning us for months on end with no fuckin’ explanation.”

“It’s not _abandonment,_ ” Techno snapped. “The hell’s up with you today?”

Wilbur pointed an accusing finger at his older brother. “Maybe you’d know if you were at home with us. You missed out on so many special days, you know. I bet you didn’t, though. Off fighting that green bastard, weren’t you?”

The other retaliated. “I’m not missin’ out on anythin’ important here. I’m busy and as much as I’d like to stay at home, I have work.”

The first sentence was an arrow through the other three’s hearts.

Silence befell the family and Tommy began to shift uncomfortably, mood immediately dampened.

“... _Nothing important,_ huh?” he muttered.

“What, did I miss somethin’ you guys find _cool?_ Somethin’, I don’t know, relevant?”

A unnatural thing happened. Tommy was never one to cry, but his bright blue eyes began to fill with tears threatening to spill over.

“Is my fuckin’ _birthday_ not _relevant?_ ”

Techno’s eyes widened in realization. Wilbur and Phil had a mini flashback to Tommy’s birthday when they tried to contact Techno to tell him to come celebrate and had just gotten sent straight to voicemail. Tommy was inwardly inconsolable for most of the day and went to spend it with Tubbo since Techno had just… not been there. Phil remembered Wilbur being furious and simultaneously worried, pacing around the house, glaring at objects that he could possibly throw.

Still, the two tried to make it happy for Tommy and baked a cake, celebrating with him when he came home from wherever he went with Tubbo.

Phil was at his wits end. He knew chaos was about to unfold, words were going to be slung around without regret, sentences pierced through people’s psyche like daggers. This was going to be one of the biggest arguments they all as a family would ever have. And Phil was tired of being there for it all.

He had been so quiet up until now, so he decided to feebly attempt to stop their quarrel.

“Stop,” he said unsurely, lowering his head, clutching his fists.

Unfortunately, Wilbur responded saying “No, Phil. Techno needs to know. We tried to reach out to him and got no response whatsoever. After we ate cake, d’ you remember what Tommy did? He _waited all night,_ standing at the door, _waiting for him._ He’s been missing out on enough and hasn’t had one single thought about anyone but himself.”

“Not true,” Techno hissed through gritted teeth. “You know I think so much about what others think of me, Wil. You know I—“

 _“Stop,”_ Phil repeated, a little louder, but his pleas fell on deaf ears. Only Tommy noticed, and looked his way for a second in concern before turning his head back to the argument.

Wilbur threw his hands up in the air sarcastically. “Yeah, yeah, your anxiety. What- _fucking_ -ever. We hear so much about it— oh, wait, we never hear anything about it, because you’re _never fucking here._ ”

Risky move. It was an unspoken rule to never bring up Techno’s anxiety in fights, but it seemed that many would be broken today. The youngest was crying by now, tears going down his cheeks as he made futile attempts to try and hide them. Phil felt nauseous and wanted it all to stop, wanted their voices to stop raising, wanted it to come to a halt. They were supposed to be having a nice dinner. They were supposed to be laughing and joking around the table.

He didn’t want to try to fix them this time. This argument was fueled by raw emotions; sadness, anger, frustration. He wouldn’t be able to placate his brothers with his reassuring words. His wings drew in on himself as an unconscious protective measure—not enough. Not enough to make him feel better. The others got louder and they had stood up by now, which meant the possibility of a fistfight.

 _No, no, no,_ he thought. _This isn’t real. The one time I can’t fix it, it’s even worse than before. No._

 _“Please,”_ he whispered, pressing his shaking hands to his ears, closing his eyes. The dim lights had seemed to get brighter, the words louder, the clothes on his skin rough and scratchy. It was too much. He couldn’t bear it—he knew it would swallow him whole if he stayed. He had begun to cry, something he rarely did, considering how much he helped others when crying and never left any safe space for himself.

It was becoming hard to breathe, and when Phil distantly heard a piece of silverware clattering to the ground, he decided he _needed_ to get out right then and there. If he didn’t, well… he’d probably start scrabbling at his throat and gasping for air. It’d draw attention, and that was the last thing he wanted at the moment.

He stood up from his chair—not bothering to notify anyone he was leaving—and unsteadily walked over to the back door. It felt like one person was looking at him, but he couldn’t tell who. He didn’t take a lantern or flashlight either, caught up in the moment and not thinking clearly. He haphazardly pushed it open and stepped outside. It was a clear night, cold but the good kind of cold. He could see the stars.

Phil took shaky flight, large wings powerful, flapping through the air. He soared over the trees. As far away as possible would do. Anything to get their voices out of his head and for it to be quiet again. Anywhere quiet.

The moonlight had the top of the forest awash in a pale glow, and he would have called it beautiful if he wasn’t so upset. The wind whistled in his ears, a trial to how fast he was going in the night sky. It felt a little calming to him and soon he found he was able to breathe again.

He flew for quite a bit, leaving the house behind. It was only him and the forest until he came upon a clearing with a lake, a small waterfall and a large rock overlooking it.

He recognized it as a place he had been going to lately to calm down after the most recent fights, and circled over the top of the boulder in the air a couple times before landing and stumbling down, knees immediately collapsing.

He laid there on the cold stone in silence for thirty seconds before beginning to sob, his chest heaving. His body shuddered as tears raced down his cheeks at a similar pace to the flow of the waterfall nearby.

Phil’s heart contorted, twisted, squeezed. He pulled his cozy sweater tighter over his arms and let out a cry. He was never a loud crier, but if he was alone, he’d take the opportunity. He was the adult of the family. Nobody would be able to hear him—they lived in a rather secluded area anyways, so just going farther into the forest wouldn’t be going any closer to the nearest town. Thankfully he was far enough.

He made yet another loud sob and sat up. The wind blew around him and the spray of the waterfall almost reached him from his vantage point, but he was too high to get wet save for a few stray droplets here and there. The water was cold and clear, reflecting the moon and stars in it.

He looked upwards to the sky, wiping his eyes (a rather useless thing to do since he didn’t stop crying or anything), and began to feel calmer. This far away from any light pollution meant brighter stars—and when he looked up, there was a hazy white arc across the dark expanse dotted with stars and constellations he recognized—the Milky Way, perhaps.

It quelled his tears for a little, calming him down as he breathed the fresh, chill, humid air around him and heard the rush of the water. He was sitting there for a bit before he heard a little croak next to him and looked down.

A small greenish-brown frog was to be seen, staring down below towards the lake. It seemed content. A chunky little lad; a unit, a thicc boi or whatever. Phil smiled softly and reached his shaky hand out to it, intending to pet it or maybe even hold it.

That is, until it fucking yeeted itself off the rock and into the lake, disappearing with a _plop_ and some ripples in the water.

Phil blinked once, then twice, then thrice, then shook his head in confusion. That… was unusual. Animals had never just _left_ around him before. Maybe they could sense the state he was in? Was that like a reverse therapy dog? Anti-therapy frog?

 _Too complicated,_ he thought, and turned his attention back to the sky—except now it was blotted out by heavy clouds. The wind seemed to blow faster and colder, and brought the smell of rain and negatively charged ions with it. Phil realized what this meant.

Storms were never good for Tommy. Tommy hated the lightning and the really loud kind of thunder. But with Phil not there to comfort him like usual, and him being stuck with Wilbur and Techno, and then all arguing…

In addition to that, if Phil was caught out in a storm, his wings would get wet; which would cause them to get heavy and waterlogged, therefore making it harder to fly. Usually he didn’t fly in storms, but wouldn’t be able to get back quick enough while walking.

“I shouldn’t have left,” he murmured to himself as tears resumed falling down his pale cheeks, flushed from the cold and emotions. A distant clap of thunder was heard and he flinched, still reliving memories from earlier in the evening. He didn’t know what time it was, so he probably should have been heading back anyways.

Behind the waterfall, Phil could see a small alcove—some sort of niche within the rock with a path leading both up and down to it—well-sheltered, probably somewhere safe from the storm. The waterfall made up one of the sides, providing some sort of watery window. He decided that could be a good hiding place from the vicious winds about to tear through the area, and began walking over (albeit a bit weakly, still deprived of energy and willpower).

When he reached it, he found it had a mossy patch of grass on the floor similar to a cushion; a pleasant surprise, so he wouldn’t have to sit on more cold rocks. He sat down cross-legged, bare feet dangling over the edge, barely brushing against the waterfall. It was clear enough to see a distorted image of the stars through the water, which was fascinating. He admired the way they rippled and shimmered behind the roaring flow, but was suddenly intruded on by his youngest brother.

Tommy had sat down next to Phil (seemingly appearing out of nowhere) without the latter noticing as he was transfixed by the celestial spread of the universe, and poked his shoulder. “Oi, Phil?” he said quietly.

Phil jumped a little. “Tommy? How did you get here? How did you know where to find me?” he said incredulously. He inwardly panicked a little, thinking maybe he had brought Wilbur and Techno with him and that they’d bring the fight here. Maybe they’d be angry at him for leaving them, because he was supposed to be the responsible one.

Tommy simply fiddled with his fingers and said, “I tried to follow you when you left ‘cause I know it can be loud when we get angry. None of the others followed me, so I wanted to see how you were doing. Seemed real upset, are you alright?”

Immediately after asking that question, he shrieked in panic and began to wave his hands about. “Wh—Why are you crying? Did I do that? I didn’t mean it, _really,_ oh Phil—P-Phil, _please—_ ”

Phil put a soft smile on his face to reassure him and he sniffed. “Not your fault. It’s… nobody’s asked me how _I’ve_ been doing in quite a while.”

Tommy looked dismayed at the statement. His expression quickly morphed into one of regret. “Sorry. I know we probably should’ve checked up on you. I saw you getting all fidgety back home, though.”

“Yeah, also cause you and Wil ‘ve been arguing so much lately too. It… stresses me out a lot. I haven’t really told anyone, but I almost can’t take it anymore. It’s pretty bad,” Phil admitted shyly; rubbing the back of his neck, almost as if he were afraid to say it and tell the truth. But it was better to get it out. “And today’s just been really bad. Lots of loud yelling and stressful shit, I, ah… I couldn’t really _breathe_ for some reason back there. I would have lost it.”

Phil didn’t think Tommy’s expression could get any more emotionally charged, but it certainly did. It twisted into something unrecognizable, perhaps a mix between anger, sadness and worry, and he blurted out, “I’m so sorry. I never meant to stress you out this bad.”

“I think I actually might have been able to handle it,” he attempted to lie and cover up his mistake before Tommy interrupted.

“Absolutely not. You don’t deserve to feel like that for so long and not tell anyone. That’s bullshit. You’re always the one consoling me or Wil.”

They stayed silent for a while, just listening to the wind and water. They could almost hear the rain as the heavy clouds began to blot out their view of the stars, snuffing them out. It was peaceful. No arguing, no yelling, nothing. Just Phil and his unusually quiet brother.

“...For all the comforting you do, nobody seems to comfort you.”

Phil slowly turned to look at Tommy, absolutely bewildered. Sure, Tommy had his mature moments, but this one was a record. The phrase echoed in his mind, resonating within him, almost shocking him—and he put his head down and cried again. This time, Tommy didn’t freak out, and instead, he just wrapped his arms around his older brother and held him.

“I missed Techno, but I didn’t want our little reunion to be like this.” Phil said.

Tommy sighed in response. “I missed him too. I just… I feel like it was my fault—”  
he paused and shook his head. “—No, I’m not here to complain. I’m here for _you._ ”

Phil chuckled and lightly punched the other’s arm. “You’re just trying to make me cry more now, aren’t you, ya little shit?”

Tommy snorted and punched him back, narrowly missing his wing. The two blondes laughed quietly together, listening to the noises all around them.  
“ _Surround sound,_ ” Phil said, waggling his fingers as his voice echoed in the tiny cave. Tommy was about to laugh again when a clap of thunder resonated through the area, and his eyes widened. “Fuck,” he muttered.

Phil looked at him, remembering that he didn’t like storms, and in turn, hugged him tightly. Luckily, he seemed to be able to calm him down enough; keeping him safe and warm usually helped. Tommy pulled his jacket over his shoulders some more and shivered. “D’you think it’s safe to head back yet?”

Phil looked at the rain and contemplated the subject. “We’d have to walk. My wings would get all wet.”

Tommy sighed. “We can walk. You’re taking my jacket though,” he said, and shrugged it off to give it to Phil. “Put it over your wings so they don’t get super wet.”

“You really don’t have to—“

“No,” his brother insisted firmly. “Starting today, I’m going to be thinking more about you and your needs ‘stead of just myself. This has been going on for too long.”

“Alright then,” said Phil, and draped the jacket over his wings, trying to cover up as much of the area as possible. Once he got it, Tommy nodded at him, and they began to make the trek back to their house.

As they walked in the rain, Phil began to worry. He knew he wasn’t supposed to be, but he couldn’t help himself. There was always that little voice inside his head, whispering doubts almost playfully and planting seeds of insecurities.

 _What if they’re angry at me for leaving when I come back? What if they’re still fighting?_ he thought. He fretted needlessly until he was jolted out of his mind by Tommy’s wet hand on his shoulder.

He looked up to his brother confusedly, wondering why he had caught his attention (they were more than halfway back to the house, what was it now?), and was met with a suspicious gaze. He made an awkward face and inched away from his menacing posture. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

A beat of silence.

“I can hear you worrying. Stop it.”

Phil sputtered indignantly, wings ruffling. “H-How did you know?! Don’t read my mind like that!”

Tommy cackled, all traces of intimidating aura dissolving and vanishing. “Big P, you’re a… big worrier. You always get this face when you worry. It’s really noticeable, kind of like…”

He made a poor imitation of some stressed-looking face that just ended up looking like someone about to pop a blood vessel. 

Phil huffed and flipped him off sarcastically. He expected Tommy to come up with a witty remark like usual, something funny and entertaining. What he didn’t expect was to begin seeing light through the trees and rain or hear familiar voices calling out their names.

The two stopped dead in their tracks, looked at each other, a tad alarmed, and crept forward slowly until they saw Wilbur and Techno through the trees. The two had lanterns and umbrellas, and they seemed worried.

Techno spotted Tommy first, then grabbed Wilbur, who was going off to the side, and pointed at them. Wilbur made a strangled noise and rushed towards the two frantically, kicking up leaves and mud in his wake.

He practically launched himself at Tommy and Phil, hugging them both silently. Techno wasn’t far behind and hugged them too, making it one big group pile.

Tommy and Phil looked at each other again, not needing to speak to know what was happening, and wrapped their arms around the other two in return. A comforting gesture seemed to be necessary in the situation, so that’s what they received.

They rested in that position for a while, Phil’s mind buzzing with many different thoughts. Was he supposed to feel happy or worried? What was happening? Were they just going to chew him and Tommy out? The rain drizzled down on them as if the sky were weeping, and it made him shiver.

Instead, they all let go of each other and began to walk home. The oldest and youngest looked at each other and traded confused glaces for the third time, wondering why it was silent.

It was… awkward, to say the least.

When they all finally arrived to their home, they let Phil go inside first, and he sat down on the couch and waited for them to come too as they closed the door, shook their umbrellas out, and took their jackets off. Thankfully, the couch was near the radiator, so his wings began to dry. His nervousness shot through the roof when the other three came into the room and just stood around the couch, looking at him.

Tommy cleared his throat, drawing everyone’s attention. Techno looked at him expectantly, him and Wilbur waiting for an explanation.

“So… Phil, d’you want to tell them why you left?”

Oh, the spotlight was on him now. He shook his head, a bit stressed. “I’d, uh—”

“I can tell them if you want, though.” Tommy’s voice softened considerably. “I know you’re going through it.”

Phil nodded in response, thankful for his interjection so that he wouldn’t have to explain _I left because you were too loud and I’ve been having to deal with these other arguments for months without telling anyone about my own mental state_.

Tommy put his hands in his pockets and began.  
“Well, Techno isn’t home to see it, but Wilbur and I have been fighting a lot recently since you’re not home, and each time you visit—if at all—we get all bitchy. He still worries about Techno, too.”

Phil nodded again. Story was checking out so far.

“Thing is, Phil’s been the one solving all the problems and being the family therapist. Even if he’s the oldest, he needs a break too. He was having a fucking _panic attack_ earlier, and I’m pretty sure I was the only one who noticed.”

Wilbur looked down, ashamed. His curly hair obscured his face, effectively hiding whatever mein he currently had on. Techno stayed deadpan, only his eyes betraying the sadness he was trying so desperately to keep in.

“And we never do anything for him or to help him. We don’t really give him comfort. He always helps me when I’m feeling not good and helps Wil when he’s sad or angry and helps Techno when he’s anxious. It may be the ugly truth, but I don’t remember helping or comforting him for a while now, maybe even for months.

“We need to learn to help him too. He doesn’t need to bear our burdens. It’s unfair.” And with that sentence, Tommy went quiet once more.

The air was still.

Wilbur shuffled around a couple times before walking over to Phil almost hesitantly, face still covered, and bent down to hug him.

To hug him.

Phil hugged him back, willing to accept it, but felt a shaking feeling. He realized Wilbur was crying hard, soaking Phil’s sweater with tears, chest heaving.

“I’m s-sorry,” the tallest choked out. However, the second oldest talked too.

“I know I’m not too good with feelin’s,” Techno said, sitting down beside him, “but I really… I’m really sorry too. I shouldn’t be away for so long.”

Wilbur started to sob. “We were s-so worried—Tommy stood up and yelled at us that we made you leave and that he was going to go find you. We didn’t think he’d actually go until he... didn’t come back. S-something could have _happened to you_ out there, it was cold and rainy—” he cut himself off, unable to form coherent sentences anymore.

Phil also felt Techno lean against him and sensed small trembles coming from him too, so he wrapped an arm around the other, then pulled both Wilbur and Techno in. He mentioned for Tommy to join in, so the youngest splayed himself across all of them as it was the only way he could really fit on the sofa.

Phil curled his wings around all of them, letting the fluffy feathers caress each of them as a calming motion. “I really—I think I just needed a break?”

“We understand it now,” Techno murmured through the tears with his deep voice, a rumble in his chest laced with heavy regret and a twinge of sadness. “We can try our best to make you feel better. I’ll spend more time here at home, it’ll probably help with the other arguments.”

Tommy hummed an affirmation. “I won’t bother you as much and start fights for no reason.”

Wilbur continued. “I can give you a break from my complaining and find other methods of emotional release rather than dumping it all on you or taking it out on others.”

Phil could tell that they were distressed, that they all disagreed with their past actions and that they genuinely wanted to change. He was… overwhelmed, to say the least. After a while of not getting comfort and now receiving copious amounts, he felt engulfed and flooded by it. He felt tears begin to prick at his eyelids again (as if he didn’t already cry enough that day).

Techno brought his feet up to his chest, curling into Phil’s side even more. “Wilbur was really worried, though. We didn’t really notice when you left—”

Tommy glared at him. “Why would you say that?”

“— _no offense, of course,_ and he was the one who just practically ran out the door when we got done bitchin’ at each other.”

“I bet you were shitting bricks, Wil,” said Tommy slyly. It immediately lightened the mood.

“I was, in fact, not shitting bricks,” the other retorted. Tommy looked to Techno as if to ask “Was he shitting bricks?”

All Techno did was grin and nod his head, causing Tommy to let out his signature screechy laugh and Wilbur to put his hands in a strangling motion, frustrated. “We’re supposed to be having a wholesome moment, you little dickhead.”

A couple more laughs came from the four, and then they settled into a comfortable silence.

“The supper’s cold,” Tommy whispered.

“Really just mine, though, I think you guys finished all yours,” Phil mused.

As Phil reheated and finished his dinner, Wilbur and Techno continued to profusely apologize for what they had said during the fights and most definitely reconciled because of the circumstances. Techno made a promise that he’d make Tommy’s birthday up to him (to which the ever-energetic Tommy pumped his fists upwards and shouted _“YES!!! A DAY WITH THE BLADE!!!”_.)

It seemed fine. It seemed like all the problems were solved and that they were happy again. They went to sleep a bit later that night due to… _previous events,_ but before bed, the youngest three brothers all agreed to do something nice for him.

The next day was filled with nothing but love for Phil. He woke up to his favorite breakfast, Wilbur played his favorite songs on the guitar for him, he and Techno went over their old Antarctic Empire documents together, and Tommy was there for “moral support”, as he called it. He was treated kindly, like royalty, and cried quite a bit in happiness.

Phil was, after all, the oldest brother.

**Author's Note:**

> HRGGRHGHGHRGRHGRRRR,,,,,,,, yeah  
> um im posting this at like 12:30 am so if there r any typos or smth, thats why :)  
> i hope its a good fic! cause like,, i love writing angst but im not sure if i write it well, ya know?
> 
> drink some water! take a shower! brush ur teeth! get some sleep! self care is important esp during shitty online school,,  
> kudos, comments n subs r always appreciated!
> 
> twitter: @/heymetamooki (i draw and spam here)  
> instagram: @/biquegg (draw here too, just not as active !)


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